


The Show Must Go On

by Diasaurusrex



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Lesbian Character, Love/Hate, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diasaurusrex/pseuds/Diasaurusrex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Season 2 Episode 16</p><p>Clarke really didn't think this was what life on Earth would be like, but she can't change it now.  After running from her people and her guilt, she has found herself living with another of the 12 Grounder clans, the Boat People, training under their healer.  When Lexa sends out a request for all extra healers to be sent to Polis, Clarke is told she has to go.  Can she see Lexa again without ripping all those stupid little braids out of her head?  Who knows.  Clarke certainly doesn't.</p><p>OR</p><p>Clark hates Lexa for what she's done, blah blah blah, Lexa still loves her, blah blah blah, they meet again, blah blah blah, maybe Clarke forgives her, blah blah blahhhhh, most likely a happy ending and a bunch of smut.  Clexa4lyf and all of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Empty Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because my general feeling is that the writers of the show will not put Clarke and Lexa together in the way I want. So, I said to myself, "I'll write what I want and read it over and over to make myself feel better." Be nice, please? I have written very little to no fan fiction, so I'm like, new and all that. Ok? Ok. 
> 
> Translations for the Trigedasleng I used are at the bottom of the story.
> 
> Oh oh oh! ANNNND.
> 
> This is a slow burn. There will be no immediate fluff and/or smut. Cause Clarke's classy, alright? She doesn't just forgive and flirt, and I don't blame her. I tried to write inline with what the characters would actually do and all that stuff.
> 
> Also, the title of the piece, "The Show Must Go On", is taken from the song by Queen with the same name. Each chapter will probably be named after a line in the song. Why? Because Freddy Mercury was a God, and would have absolutely shipped Clexa. That's why.
> 
> Constructive criticism i.e. spelling, grammatical errors, general plot line holes and the like are not only appreciated but wanted! As long as they are polite. Yeah?
> 
> Feel like discussing your undying love for Clexa? Want to see the loads of pretty pictures I upload onto my tumblr? Who am I to deny you.
> 
> http://icanmakeyerhipsstirrr.tumblr.com/
> 
> Dia

Sighing, Clarke squatted down in order to inspect the wound at eye level. It was deep and oozing blood, but it wasn’t gaping and she couldn’t see any subcutaneous fatty tissue. Flicking her gaze up to take in the tearless condition of the small feminine face that belonged to the bleeding leg, she rose with a groan. The girl hadn’t said a word since striding into the healing tent a few moments ago, but she knew it had to hurt if she was here. The Floukru people rarely came to her when the regular healer Cheya was gone unless they were on death’s door. She headed over to the wooden dresser that Cheya used to store the different medicinal herbs that she had been teaching Clarke how to use over the past six months, wrenching one of the rough drawers open and removing a pack of dried flowers and a jar of honey.

"You are lucky. You don't need stitches." Clarke muttered. Small green eyes fixed on Clarke's blue ones as she bent to look at the sizable gash again.

" _Yu laik luky_." She clarified in Trigedasleng, grimacing at the dirt surrounding the cut. Clarke had long ago given up on explaining how important it was to have some kind of hygiene to the Floukru people. Although they could be described as obsessed with water, _soap_ was another matter.

The little girl just watched her, calm and motionless. This seemed to be a trait that all Grounders had in common. Little words, lots of staring. It was just as well. Even though this clan was not so far away from the Trikru people, their different accent was thick enough to make it difficult for her to understand their warped version of Trigedasleng anyways. At first, she hadn't even been able to tell if they were speaking the same language. Many of the Floukru people spoke conversational English, as they were mostly all traders and fighters, but they avoided speaking it if they could. Or maybe they just avoided speaking to _her_ if they could.

Clarke took the lid off the pot of honey and dipped her fingers in, wrinkling her nose at the feeling before she slathered some on a strip of clean (or as clean as anything got in this place) cloth before crushing petals from one of the dried flowers and sprinkling the crumbled pieces on the honey. Cheya had taught her that a paste of honey and _caldoola_ flower petals would help a wound heal and ward off infection. She had been more than skeptical, but the mixture had proven itself more than once, and it was the thing she used the most now other than a needle and thread.  After wrapping the girl's leg with the poultice directly in contact with the bloody cut, she stood and fixed her with what she hoped was an authoritative glare.

“I’m going to give you some of this mixture for you to take with you. Change the dressing every night before bed, and use a clean cloth, you hear me? Check the wound every morning and come back if it gets red and crusty.”

The child said nothing as Clarke handed her a small pot of the honey-sludge, so she waved the girl off with a flick of her wrist and a brisk nod. She had learned quickly not to tell the children here to be more careful or to expect a thank you after she tended to one of them. Bone breaks, abrasions, and concussions were a part of life when you were born into one of the twelve Grounder clans. Age and gender obviously did not change that fact. The girl she had just helped couldn’t have been over the age of seven, but warrior training started at six in this particular village. This wasn’t a world where children could be children.

Clarke felt her heart squeeze at the thought and shook her head, as if to clear it with the motion. Six months had done little to ease the ache she felt at the back of her throat over the innocents she had killed with one pull. She figured that even if she spent the rest of her life healing the sick and wounded, she could never make up for it. But at least she could try.

Straightening her back, she hastily pushed those feelings away and moved to the medicine dresser to check if anything needed to be replenished. Grounders did not revel in their sadness. That was another lesson she had learned here. They were not interested in her self pity. They had made that apparent when she had come to them, bent and broken with pain etched into the gaunt lines of her face. There was little regret to be had among these people, and it was just what she needed. She didn’t need soft words and gentle treatment. She didn’t need to be told that she had made the right decision. She needed to forget.

She needed to forget the Mountain. She needed to forget Jasper and Maya. She needed to forget the Heda and her green eyes, as she was sure the Commander had already forgotten her. Shaking her head again, she swiped a jug of liquid off the top of the dresser and took a long pull. Green eyes definitely always spell trouble.

 

* * *

 

 

The blow landed directly on her cheek, and she knew that if Jos hadn’t been holding back, the bone underneath the area would have shattered from the impact. Stumbling back, she tried to steady her reeling mind so that she could ready herself for his next attack, but it was useless. Within a second, she found herself flat on her back, a whoosh of whining air exiting her lungs involuntarily. At least they were training on the beach today, the grit of the sand helping to soften her fall caused by Jos’s leg sweep. Jos was grinning above her, and she fought back her agitation at the superior tilt of his chin as he surveyed her.

“You’re getting better, _Prisa_.” Jos chuckled, his eyes dancing. Clarke snorted at this, scrambling to her feet and gingerly touching the area he had punched for the impending and inevitable bruise.

“It does not feel like it, _Joka_.” She spat out, allowing her body to fall into the crouching defensive position once again. She was aching all over, her breath still coming in and out a little louder and faster than she would have liked, but she was determined to learn how to fight. She had been training with Jos for almost three months, and on days like today, the pursuit felt more than a little hopeless. When Jos shook his head at her, she blinked in confusion.

“ _Daun ste plenty_.” He said, plopping down on the sand and surveying the brackish water.

“ _Ai laik nou odon_!” She replied, flapping her arms impatiently at her sides. Jos only placed his hands behind his head and leaned back closing his eyes.

Kicking the sand, she glared at him, but didn’t say anything else. When Grounders don’t want to do something or don’t want to answer, they just don't. Society full of stubborn assholes. Plopping down next to him in resignation, she huffs and turns her eyes on the water as well.

Clarke was pretty sure that the ocean that was only a few miles away from the village and that she was currently looking at had once been called the Atlantic. They had all learned basic Earth geography on the Ark, but she knew that the landscape of their planet had been changed dramatically in the years they had been gone, carved out by the wars that sent them to space and the resulting climate changes. When she and the 100 had stepped onto soil for the first time, she remembered feeling absolutely stunned by the beauty of their abandoned planet. She had let herself have a minute at most to feel the wonder and awe before sliding back into cautious and responsible Clarke.

That day felt like it had happened in another lifetime and to another person. Had it really been less than a year that she had been on Earth? It had taken mere minutes for her to stop seeing only the beauty in her ancestor’s planet and start seeing the danger. All she had thought about since her first footfalls on Earth was survival. The survival of herself and of her people. She had used survival to justify actions that she now knew she would never forgive herself for completely.

Wrapping her arms around her legs and dropping her chin to her knees, Clarke continued to survey the water before her. Jos had offered to teach her how to swim several times, but she had always turned him down. As her previous line of thinking had taught her, the more beautiful the feature, the more inherent the danger when it came to this planet, and the ocean was breathtaking. Clarke figured that she had spent too much time and too many other people’s lives on surviving to get herself killed swimming.  The Boat People spent most of their lives on or in the water, fishing and taking short trips to other small villages along the shore.  Jos had tried to convince her that his expertise and ease in the water would prevent her from drowning, but she still didn't trust the open expanse of blue liquid.  

There had been a time when she was wandering, just after Mount Weather, where she had seriously contemplated letting go of her own life. When Jos had found her, emaciated and dangerously dehydrated, she still hadn’t been entirely sure if she wanted to be saved. He didn’t take no for an answer, and she knew she owed him more than just her life now. No one else knew how hard he had fought to get her just to eat something, and she felt shame heat her cheeks as she remembered it. She knew now that if she had let herself die after all she had done – all the people she had killed – that it would have been a waste.

“Luna wants to see you when we get back.” Jos said, breaking Clarke out of her reverie. She felt fear climb up her spine and she locked her gaze on his. Laughing, he smacked her lightly on the back with his wide hand. “Do not worry, little _Skai Prisa_. You are not in trouble.”

Glaring back at him she scooped up a handful of sand and dumped it in his hair before quickly springing up and running back towards the path that led to the village. She may not be as good at him at punching, but she always outran him.

 

* * *

 

 

“I do not wish to go.” Clarke said stiffly, her hands balled into fists at her sides as she tried to keep her expression at least slightly respectful.

“It does not matter what you wish, Clarke of the _Skaikru_. You and Jos will leave for Polis tonight. You will pack your things. If you do not obey our Heda’s command, you will no longer be welcome here. Either way, you will not be here tomorrow.”

Clarke shifted from foot to foot, her lips set in a thin line as she regarded Luna’s stoic face. She knew deep down that there was no arguing with the leader. Even the small protest she made could be see as treason here. Lexa had apparently put out a call for healers to come to Polis, and as Cheya was fully trained and needed here, that meant Clarke was to go. When she had asked Luna what the Heda wanted, she had simply stared back at Clarke silently, no answer in her wide-set brown eyes. She felt the anger welling up somewhere deep in her stomach, but she tamped it down, barely managing a curt nod as her answer to Luna before she stomped out of the leader’s tent.

Jos caught up with her a moment later, his steps falling into rhythm with hers as they walked towards the tents at the edge of the wide village. She was fighting to stuff down all of the emotions rolling through her body at the moment, so she stayed quiet even though she could feel his eyes on her as they walked. When they reached the home she shared with Cheya, she was surprised to feel a pang of sadness when she gazed at the tent. She had complained about it often, and to be honest, it was a leaky piece of shit that did little to protect her from the cold and the heat, but she realized that it had become home in the past few months.

The semi-permanent tent like structures were large but drafty, made more for the ease of transport and set up than for the life that happened in them.  Cheya had told her that the Boat People sometimes had to move their tents because of floods or especially bad storms, but she hated how temporary the lodging seemed. She had often missed the cold glint of metal when staring at the faded fabric patches dotting the tent walls. Grounder life was not comfortable, she thought, ruefully remembering how shocked she had been to learn that most Floukru people didn’t sleep with pillows or anything underneath their heads at night.

“You will miss it.” Jos said, still and gentle beside her. It was not a question, but a statement, and Clarke knew it was true. Turning towards the Grounder, she nodded slightly once in confirmation. They stood there silently for another minute before Jos turned to her, the obvious affection showing on his face causing Clarke to swallow the lump that rose in her throat.

“You will not be alone in this.” He said, placing his hand on the small of her back for just a moment before he turned to walk towards his own (much less leaky) tent. Clarke watched his retreating form, warmth spreading across her chest at the gentle giant’s words. Jos was over six feet tall, with wild, bushy hair that fell past his well-muscled shoulders. He was more than a little intimidating when you didn’t know that inside he was pretty much a big ole’ softy. At the moment, he and Cheya were the closest thing she had to family and friends here.

Jos had asked her many times to tell him what had happened to her.  He had pieced together that she had something to do with the Mountain Men disappearing from the small amounts of information she had told him and the rumors that had eventually made their way to Riva. He knew that she carried something "heavy in her heart", he said, and she hadn't denied it. He also knew that she wasn't a fan of Lexa, but he didn't know why.  He was smart enough to know, however, that she would not be looking forward to seeing her again.

Lately, she had the feeling that Jos was interested in taking their friendship to another place, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.  He was attractive, but he was also Cheya's only son, and she wasn't sure if she had enough heart left to care for anyone that way anymore.

 Thinking of the grumpy healer made her sigh. She was not looking forward to saying goodbye to her, but she could see the woman’s cane leaning against the outside wall of the tent, signaling that Cheya was back from checking up on a pregnant woman who had been running a fever. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. There was no way to avoid this.

“ _Yu laik na bants_.” Cheya was at the medicine dresser, taking out small pots. Clarke could see that she had already started to wrap them in bits of cloth in order to keep them safe during the journey. Shaking her head, Clarke stared at the woman’s back before replying.

“ _Sha. Ai laik_.” Clarke was always amazed at the healer’s ability to know everything that was happening in their village before anyone else. “ _Osir bants nau_.”

Cheya shook her head and stuffed all of the wrapped pots into a small sack before shuffling towards Clarke and shoving it into her hands.

“Get on with it, then.” Cheya barked at her in English before turning to shuffle off into another room in the tent. Rolling her eyes, she caught the woman's arm and spun her around embracing her in a quick hug.

" _Mochof_." She whispered to her before letting Cheya go. Almost immediately, she felt the familiar crack of the healer's hand smacking the back of her head like she always did when Clarke made a mistake.

" _Branwoda_." Cheya grumbled before ambling out of the tent. Clarke laughed out loud, and then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise. How long had it been since she had laughed like that? She shook her head as she began to pack her things in a small cloth bag she had used to collect medicinal herbs. When she heard someone clear their throat behind her, she whirled around, her heart jumping.

Luna was standing at the entrance of the tent, looking tense as always with a soft looking leather jacket in her hands. Frowning, Clarke stepped towards her, dipping her head in acknowledgement of her leader. Luna held the jacket out to Clarke, and waited until she took it before speaking.

"It is about time that you had a piece of Floukru clothing." She said formally, speaking only in English for Clarke's benefit. "You will be representing us in Polis. You should dress the part."

Clarke recognized both the sentiment and the warning in her statement. She was to be on her best behavior, and would suffer severe consequences if she was not.

"Cheya has said that you have done well while working under her. If you choose to come back to us, you will have a tent here." With that, Luna turned and exited the tent, leaving a stunned looking Clarke in her wake.

When Jos had brought her to this village, she had been told she was allowed to stay for a year at most. Enough time to heal and move on. The offer of a tent and clothing meant that Luna thought she was useful enough to keep. Looking down at the jacket in her hand, she inspected it. It was patched and worn, like everything the Grounders wore, but it was a beautiful gray color and had the Floukru symbol on a patch at the elbow. She slipped it on and stood for a moment, willing herself to stop being so sappy.

 

* * *

 

 _Yu laik luky -_ You are lucky

 _caldoola -_ Trigedasleng for Calendula flowers (actually used in natural healing)

 _Prisa/Skai Prise -_ Princess/Sky Princess (what Clarke had been called in the rumors about what happened to the Mountain Men)

 _Joka -_ Fucker

 _Daun ste plenty -_ That's enough

 _Ai laik nou odon -_ I am not done

 _Riva -_ Name of the village she has been staying in

 _Skaikru_ \- the Sky People (those from the ark)

 _Yu laik na bants_ \- You are going to leave 

_Sha. Ai laik_ \- Yes. I am. 

_Osir bants nau_ \- We leave now. 

_Mochof_ \- Thank you.

Branwoda - A person who is too stupid to live. 


	2. Behind The Curtain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hello!
> 
> Ok, Ok. I know I took a bit to upload the second chapter of this story. BUT. Hear me out. There were extenuating circumstances. I had the chapter written and ready before I posted the first one, but then I read it over and I was all like "JK, LOL, BRB with a new chapter." So, that took a bit. 
> 
> Plus plus PLUS, I work for a not for profit as their In-Kind Donations person. That means that the month of December is a certain kind of hell for me at my job. I'm basically buried in stuffed animals and clothing and toys for the whole month.
> 
> The point is, I got it done, okie doke? January is my "relief month" so I will be able to update frequently. 
> 
> ALSO. Thanks so much for all the positive feedback! I'm glad to see people following the story. Makes my heart swell like the Grinch's!
> 
> There is smut in this chapter. A tiny little bit of it. No, it's not Clexa smut. Deal with it, yo. 
> 
> I forgot to say this last chapter, but it applies to the whole story:
> 
> I don't own The 100. Any of it. I just like it a lot.
> 
> If you don't understand the title of this chapter or the story itself, look at the notes on the first chapter. 
> 
> Kthnxbye!
> 
> <3  
> Dia

She had made the wrong decision.

Actually, she had made _several_ wrong decisions since the _Skaikru_ people had crashed so violently into her planet.

Cursing under her breath, Lexa continued to pace the floor of her planning room, wishing for what felt like the thousandth time that the Sky People had stayed up in space where they belonged.  Life had been simple before they came; before _she_ came.  It had been bloody and it had been short, but it had been simple.  Finally allowing herself to plop down unceremoniously into the chair at the head of a long and battered table, her gaze fell to it's weathered surface.  Several maps were strewn across it, and looking over them gave her an instant headache.  Lexa firmly massaged her temples, willing the frustration and tension in her body to disappear.  Every mistake that she had made in the past year had been for the survival of one person, and it truly puzzled her.

They had told her that the _Heda’s_ spirit had chosen her, and that with it came the cold callousness of one who has to make life and death decisions.  She had easily slid into her role as the Commander, barely blinking when making said decisions, never flinching when they benefitted the many while killing the few.  She had never balked, hesitated, or questioned herself until Clarke.  She had loved Costia.  Of that she was sure.  Even now, her throat tightened when she thought her name.  What she felt for Clarke, though…

It was different.  And it was her first mistake.

It had caused her to forge an alliance with the _Skaikru_ , a people she knew little about that had set three hundred of her warriors ablaze.  It had caused her to betray Clarke and her people.

Closing her eyes, she remembered what she had said to Clarke.  _I made this choice with my head and not my heart._   As she let the words she had spoken reverberate inside of her skull, Lexa felt the anger that had built up in her over the past six months prickle up her spine.  She had lied.  She had made a choice with only her heart, to save Clarke’s life as well as the lives of Lexa’s own people.

Thinking about the one who had offered her the deal at Mount Weather, her hands twitched, as if they still wanted to reach out and strangle the life from him.  He had told her that she could have everything that she wanted.  She had scoffed at this, ready to have one of her guards cut him down where he stood until he started to speak again.  He had told her that he would release all of their people; that he would leave them alone in the future.  But it was his next words that stopped Lexa in her tracks.

 He had told her that if she did not accept his terms; if she and the rest of the Grounders did not leave the mountainside; that he would put a price on Clarke’s head and he would personally make sure the girl would not make it out of this fight alive.  He had said that even if the Grounders and the _Skaikru_ managed to win the battle, Clarke would most certainly be lost.  If she accepted, he would insist that Clarke not be killed, and he would not bleed her.  He would spare her life and those of Lexa’s own people for her betrayal.

She had never felt such hate before.  It ran through her veins and into her heart as she stared at his smirking face, and her hand had tightened on the hilt of her sword.  When Costia had been taken, the _Az Kwin,_ Nia, had sent word of a deal.  She would spare Costia’s life in exchange for Lexa’s deference to her.  Lexa had known that to bow to the Ice Queen would be to subject all of her people to the cruel ways of the Ice Nation.  She knew it meant death and destruction of the Coalition she had been fighting so hard to create.  She had sacrificed Costia for her people, and the pain she had felt behind her eyes and in her gut when Costia’s head was sent to her in a basket had been unimaginable.

She would not do it again.  She _could_ _not_ do it again.

Lexa pressed her fists to her eyes, as if she could block the flood of images from running through her mind.  At least once a day since she had simultaneously betrayed Clarke and saved her life, she had replayed the events of that day without fail.

She would watch herself, as if looking on from a distance, as she opened her own mouth and accepted the Mountain Man’s deal.  She would watch as she tramped back towards Clarke, as she stopped the fight, as she betrayed her.  She would listen as she explained to Clarke that she had done this for the lives of her own people.  Worst of all, she would watch as she turned her back on Clarke and walked away.

Lexa had gone back to her tent that night and destroyed almost everything inside.  She had ripped maps, overturned tables, smashed chairs, and even let a few tears fall down her face though she would never admit that to anyone.  She had punched the large wooden beam in the center of her living tent that served as a part of its support system until it was covered in blood from her chewed-up knuckles.

Launching out of her chair, she resumed her pacing once more, flexing her scarred hands before clasping them behind her back.  She could see now how her decisions and following actions to solve a problem had only created another in its wake.  Forming an alliance with the _Skai Prisa_ had angered the Mountain Men and had caused the deaths at TonDC.  Saving Clarke’s life from the missile had obviously tipped off the Mountain Men that she might care for Clarke, making her valuable.  Taking the deal with the Mountain Men had kept Clarke alive, but had taken her from both Lexa and Clarke’s own people.  It had forced Clarke to do whatever it was she had done in Mount Weather to cause all of the Mountain Men to die, which in turn caused her current situation.

When Lexa had received word from the scouts she had left behind at Mount Weather that the Sky People had defeated the Mountain Men and had gotten their people back, she had felt relief.  It had meant her people would be safe and they might trust her again.  Many had thought her decision to take the deal had been foolish, as they had also thought that the Mountain Men would break their alliance like Lexa had. 

The relief, however, was short-lived.  News that the Mountain Men no longer posed a threat spread to the twelve clans from those who had come to fight with them, and she soon heard reports that the Ice Nation was mobilizing troops and building massive stores of weapons.  It seemed that the Nia had decided that now was the perfect time to fight her way out of the Coalition.

Stopping her pacing in front of the maps showing Nia’s encroaching forces, Lexa slammed her fists down on the table in frustration, blinking rapidly.  She had been right about one thing.  Love was _definitely_ weakness, and she refused to be weak anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lexa glared at Clarke’s mother, her hands clasped behind her back as she surveyed the woman in front of her.  What was it about the Griffin women that made all of her careful and precise control begin to unravel?

“You would be stupid not to align yourselves with us.”  Lexa stated, trying hard to keep her voice from wavering with the heat of her anger.  She had allowed this woman to talk at her for a lengthy amount of time, and her small amount of patience was fast disappearing.  Abby however, did not seem to notice this.  She was looking back at Lexa with a fierce expression of dislike, her delicate healer’s hands balled into angry fists at her sides.  For a brief moment, her stance reminded Lexa of Clarke so much that she felt a dull ache in her chest, but she pushed the feeling down with a brief mental reminder of _no more weakness._

“I think most people would say that it would be stupid to strike another alliance with someone who had broken the last one within the last year!”  Abby spat at her, all venom and razors in her voice. 

Lexa just watched her calmly, holding her hand up when Indra stepped forward, the warrior’s breath coming out in sharp grunts in her want to defend her commander.  The Sky People’s haughtiness and unwillingness to see past their own upturned noses would be their downfall if they didn’t learn some humility.

“You are right to be angry, Abby of the Sky People, but you will respect me still.”  Lexa got out through gritted teeth, her head held high and her war-painted gaze never leaving Abby’s.

“I have done what I must to save my own people.  If you accept this deal, you will _become_ my people, my responsibility.”  Lexa explained slowly, as if saying it at such a pace would somehow help Abby to understand what she was saying.   

“Like the lives of the people at TonDC were your responsibility?  They were your people, were they not?”  Abby breathed, her barely constrained fury poking through her words to jab at Lexa.  It was then that the Commander felt her own anger spilling over, and she stepped towards the reckless woman.

“You have no right to judge.”  Lexa bit out quietly, trying to calm the tremors in her hands.  “Were not the 100 your people, and children at that?  Was not one of them your own daughter?  Do not lay blame in the same place where your own blame lies.  We have both killed some to save others.  The only difference is that I acknowledge this about myself and you do not.  I am offering you a way to make sure those lives you have taken were not lost in vain.  I am offering you survival.”

Lexa was now only a few paces from the haughty leader, and she could see the panic rising from behind the defiance that was lashing in Abby’s eyes.

“You are not the only Grounder leader who has sent a message to us.”  Abby said, as if this was would be new and surprising information to Lexa.  “The Ice Queen sent a messenger less than a week ago.  He told us that she would kill us.  That she would slaughter us if we did not join her against you and the other clans.  We have women with child among us now.  We are not all soldiers or fighters.  We are people who lived our entire lives circling above you.  How do you expect me to take this choice?  It’s like choosing between drowning or dying of thirst. We are the only ones who won’t win no matter what we choose!”

Abby was on edge, her voice teetering as if high on the cliff that she saw Lexa’s offer as, with her only move being to pitch forwards to a certain death.  Lexa stayed quiet for a moment, choosing her next words carefully.  Truthfully, she needed the Sky People and their technology.  She needed their bodies.  The Ice Nation was large and brutal.  She had the support of all but one of the other Grounder clans, but the choice that the Sky People were to make could change the tide of the coming war.

“I do not disagree.  It is a choice that no one would wish to take.  However, if I was in your place, I would choose those not threatening to slaughter my people in revenge.”  Feeling that she had said everything she could, she nodded once at Abby.

“I will leave now.  Please give Indra your decision before sundown tomorrow.  I hope you choose wisely.”

With that, Lexa turned to stride out of the room, wishing to rid herself of the pushy woman as soon as possible.  She was stopped though, by Abby’s voice free of all the fight it had been brimming with earlier.  Now, she just sounded tired.

 “I haven’t seen her in six months.”

Lexa felt her shoulders stiffen, and she paused, her back still towards Abby.  Her stomach churned with emotion, and no matter how hard she tried to tamp it down and remind herself to be strong, it continued to roll and toss.

“Neither have I.”  Lexa responded quietly before she pushed her way past Indra and out of the Ark.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lexa fucked women like she waged war – hard, fast, and without apology.  Everything was calculated, mapped out and understood.  It was always slightly mechanical, and she was always in charge; the Commander mask always firmly in place even in her most intimate of moments.  She never spent the night, they never came to her home or tent, and she never felt completely satisfied afterwards.

She watched as the girl below her arched her back, sweat rolling down her forehead as she cried out in desperation.  She was beautiful, whoever she was, and for tonight, she would be enough.  Lexa’s gaze fell to the sheet of light-colored hair that was splayed out widely underneath the girl’s head, and for a moment, everything went a little fuzzy and it was _her_ body moving jerkily below her and _her_ voice calling out Lexa’s name in sharp little grunts and gasps.  A small whine exited Lexa’s body at the thought, and she sped up her motions ever so slightly, causing the girl to arch her back again, this time actually calling out _beja, beja, beja Heda._

Lexa had always liked to alternate between going fast and taking her time.  She wanted to make them beg for it, to ask them to say such dirty things because of how those words sounded tumbling out of such innocent looking lips.  For those long moments, she was never thinking about death or the planning of it.  She could be lost in the sounds and the sweat and the _wet motion_.  Tonight, she needed to forget the  _Az Kwin_ and the destruction the coming war would bring.

With the wrong name caught deep in her throat, Lexa kissed up the girl’s neck and buried her nose in her hair, breathing in.  It was then that she noticed that the yellow of the girl’s hair was just a little too brassy, and her voice just a little too high, and all of the sudden it was _wrong, she_ was wrong and all Lexa wanted was for it to be over.  So she touched in just the right places, said just the right things, and watched dully as the girl beneath her came apart for her in screams and bucks.

Then reality was back, and she remembered the things she had done and the things she would still do, and she didn’t even say a word as she rolled off the girl and stood to dress.  She left the girl with a singular nod and question’s dying on the blonde’s swollen and chapped lips, striding out the door and past her guards.  They each positioned themselves on either side of her as she strode towards her home in Polis, and Lexa felt the weight of the world slipping back onto her strong shoulders.

Abby had eventually agreed to her deal, and Lexa had sent out a call for healers a few weeks back.  Abby and the other Sky People who were trained in medicine had come to Polis in order to teach these healers what they knew and the Grounders did not.  They would need skilled healers at every front line if they were to survive the coming war.  They had been pouring into the city every day of the past week, and tomorrow, she was to meet with Abby about the training.  She needed her sleep to deal with the often impossible woman.

Once in her room, Lexa stripped for the second time that night, only this time, she took the knife strapped to her thigh off and placed it on the low table next to her wood-frame bed.  Her guards had been stationed outside of the door the entire time she was with the girl, but she hadn’t survived this long by depending on others to keep her alive.  The only time she took off that particular knife was when she was home and ready to sleep, but she kept another strapped to the inside of her arm always, even when bathing.  Once buried under the patched blankets and furs that covered the bed, Lexa spent the rest of the night sleepless, convincing herself that she was stronger this way.  Alone.

* * *

 

 

_Skaikru_ \- Sky People

_Heda_ \- Commaner

_Az Kwin -_ Ice Queen

_Beja_ \- Please ;)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooo.
> 
> Lexa is a top, who would've guessed? (insert eye roll here)
> 
> Please comment and all that. I do like to know if you don't like something, as long as you say it politely. Let me know what you think!


	3. Abandoned Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God. Let me tell you.
> 
> I just wrote one of the kiss scenes (no, it's not in this chapter, sorry suckkkkaaaa) and it's pretty awesome. Like, it's good shit. 
> 
> Also, I had a very strange yet very awesome dream the other night, and I would like to share it with you. 
> 
> So. Open up another tab in your browser.
> 
> Go to YouTube.
> 
> Look up the video "Sorry" by Justin Bieber (JUST DO IT. I don't care how much you don't like him, I love him enough to have our WiFi name be 'Belieber', even though I'm a big 'ole lesbo.)
> 
> Good. Now, before you play it, just imagine that in each scene the lead dancer is Lexa, full cape and makeup. Picture all the background dancers as Grounder warriors.
> 
> Yup. That was my dream. Lexa dancing her apology to Clarke with a full group of dancing warriors. 
> 
> You're welcome.
> 
> Oh, and thanks. I'm loving the feedback and seeing people following the story. It makes me feel so great!!
> 
> Love love love
> 
> Dia

Jos was seriously testing her patience.

The normally quiet and non-intrusive Grounder had been peppering her with questions all day, and when she didn't answer, had resorted to the tactics that small children use to get someone's attention. Every few minutes, he would give her a sideways glance before stretching his booted foot over the gap between their horses in order to prod her gently with it. This time when he reached his foot over, she slapped at it angrily, and his booming laugh filled the open air of the forest around them.

"Come on, Clarke." He said, trying hard to hide the smile he was wearing and almost succeeding. "You're so stiff and apprehensive that your horse can feel it. You are the very one who always tells me that sometimes talking about one's problems can help."

"I was saying that  _you_  and the other Grounders would benefit from talking about your problems."  Clarke growled, frowning at Jos before laying across her horses neck and draping her arms to embrace him in an apology for making him restless.  She stayed like that for a moment, taking strength from the terrifying animal she had been given to make the journey on.  

"There isn't much to talk about, Jos."  She said once she had finally righted herself in her handmade saddle.

"What I did at the Mountain...I did it because I had to.  I would do it again without thinking twice.  They were killing my friends in there.  But there were innocents.  There were children that had no idea what was going on and had harmed no one and I took away their lives to save others."  Clarke paused, struggling to find the words to explain the heavy swirl of emotions that seemed to live within her chest now.

“There were no enemies for me on the Ark.”  She started, looking down at the braided leather reins in her hand.  "At least, none that fought me physically.  Until the day I found out about the air supply, I had everything I wanted."  Clarke shook her head.

 "No, that's not exactly true.  I had everything that I could  _know_ I wanted.  I didn't have all the information.  I didn't know what was down here.  All my priorities are different now.  Everything that mattered up there doesn't matter down here any lo, and I'm having trouble getting used to that."  Clarke's horse shifted underneath her, aware again of her emotions and the frustration she was feeling at not being able to adequately explain herself.

"Let me try again."  Clarke trailed off, once again pausing to gather her thoughts.

"Up there, I was not a leader.  At best, I was just upper class, someone who would never do intensive labor unless it was over a surgical table.  I used to read all these books about the Earth, and imagine what it would be like to be down here, but overall I was happy.  Oblivious, but happy.  I had parents that loved me, a few friends, and a future."  Clarke felt the ache at the back of her throat building as she spoke, but it was all coming out of her now like a waterfall, fast and unstoppable.

 "Down here, I watched as so many people died.  People just like me, young and stupid, and apparently expendable.  I found out that one parent had betrayed the other, that the friend that I blamed for my dad's death had covered up my mother's crime in order to keep me from pain, only to find him dead by the hand of a little girl who couldn't keep the nightmares from invading her sleep.  I watched that little girl let guilt swallow her whole before she ended her own life, and that was all within the first week.

Down here, I was a leader.  Ninety-eight faces looked to me to make decisions to save their lives, and as the number of faces dwindled, the guilt built.  Down here, I know more than I ever could have possible known up there, but I don't know how to be happy.  I don't know how to erase the guilt, how to wash the blood off of my hands."  Clarke refused to look at Jos as she continued, not being able to bear the look of pity she assumed he would be wearing.

"I can't go back.  I can't stay.  I left because I couldn't look at the faces of the people I saved without seeing the faces of those I had killed to do so.  I would've died out there if it wasn't for you and the  _Floukru_ people.  I owe you and them my life, and I am so grateful, but I left so that I could escape the politics.  Now I feel as if I'm being dragged back in.  There are bound to be Grounders in Polis who recognize me, who know what I've done.  I'm not really sure if I'm ready to face that.  I trusted Lexa.  I was the one who convinced my people that we all could trust her.  When she betrayed me..."  Clarke caught herself, immediately correcting her mistake.

"When she betrayed  _us_ , she did more than just leave us to the killers.  She turned me into one, and I don't think I can forgive that."

Once she stopped talking, Jos and Clarke rode another two miles at least before Jos broke the silence.  

"You feel that you are in the middle, yes?"  Clarke nodded her head, keeping her gaze trained forward as she absent-mindedly stroked her horse's neck.

"Sometimes the middle is not so bad a place to be."  Jos stated simply.  When he didn't say anything else, Clarke burst into laughter, and only managed to stop when she saw the look of utter confusion on Jos's face. 

"After all that, that's your advice?"  Jos nodded warily, looking at Clarke with a cautious expression.

"God, you are  _such_ a Grounder!"  She said, before allowing the laughter to bubble back up again.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been so long since she had looked in a mirror.

Clarke brought one of her hands to her face, wincing as she felt the dips and pits where small scars marred her once smooth features.  It had been five days since she arrived in Polis, where there was running water and mirrors and  _real houses_ , and she had spent a few minutes every morning so far staring into the jagged reflective surface hung in the small bathroom attached to her room, surprised by what she saw there.

She could get used to the braids.  Jos had insisted that she let him braid her hair in a taditional  _Floukru_ style before entering Polis, and she actually liked it.  It kept her wavy hair out of her eyes and face, and the dirt and grease that were a constant didn't seem to show as much.  She could also get used to how pronounced her jawline looked.  Food was not a given on Earth, and she would probably never again reach the weight she was at on the Ark.

As she surveyed the lines that worry and stress from the past seven months had carved into her face, Clarke thought again how much older she looked.  She had always been a frowner, even on the Ark, but now it felt as though her lips were perpetually turned downward at the edges and her brow was forever wrinkled in concern.  The scars stood out white or pink in stark contrast to her now darkened skin, and she looked battle worn.  All this coupled with the subtle dullness at the back of her eyes aged her far beyond her almost nineteen years.

Finally tearing her eyes away from her own reflection, she grabbed the lever beside the raised basin below the mirror and quickly pumped it.  Lexa had been right about one thing, visiting Polis made her look at the Grounders in a whole different light.  On the ride there, Jos had explained to her that the Grounders had run pipes they had salvaged from ruined cities under many of the buildings that they had constructed in Polis in order to make water more easily accessible for cooking and cleaning.  It had been one thing to hear about it, but seeing it in person was more than a little impressive.  while most of the pipes pumped out unheated water, there was a few public bathhouses located throughout Polis with large, steaming hot pools.  Jos had told her that these were heated by attendants stoking fires beneath solid floors for twelve hours a day.  Prisoners who had committed non-violent crimes worked several laborious jobs such as these to keep the city running.  After they had been shown to their rooms in one of the lodging houses many of the other healers were staying in, Jos had tugged her along to one of them, eager to get rid of the dust and dirt from their journey.  She had followed with a certain amount of trepidation, but had flat-out refused to enter when she realized just how public the bathhouses were. 

Since then, she had made do with pumping fresh clean water into a basin every morning to scrub her body with, reasoning that although it was no shower, it was still way better than the freezing dips she had taken in ponds and lakes since she arrived on Earth.  The cold and the fear of river monsters had made those dips too short to actually break through the layer of sweat and grime that had settled over her skin, but here they had actual _soap_ and soft squares of fabric for rubbing your skin clean.

She didn't even care that she had to share this bathroom with the occupants of the four other rooms that had doors leading into it.  It was still much less public than the bathhouse had been.  Quickly splashing herself with the water, she dragged one such cloth across her face before glancing at the mirror a final time.  Honestly, it wasn't the scars or lines of anxiety that surprised her anymore.  Instead, as she turned her chin first one way, than the other, she knew that what bothered her when she saw her reflection was more than just skin deep.

Traipsing back to her room, Clarke pulled on her soft leather jacket and laced up the straps that held her boots firmly on her feet.  What bothered her when she saw herself in the cracked piece of glass hung on a wall was the same thing that had bothered her the past few days when she and Jos had begun to explore Polis.  To everyone else, she looked as if she belonged here.  Octavia had been a Grounder from the moment she met Lincoln.  Despite having spent all of her formative years on the Ark, she had never been a part of the society that floated so many miles above the Earth.  She had spent her life in darkness and secrecy, so when she had the chance to accept a new way of life, she fully embraced it.

For Clarke, it was not so easy.  She had belonged up there, gently spinning in space among the stars. Or, she had, until they had thrown her into prison and hurtled her to the ground. Now, every day, as she walked the dirt roads of Polis, she felt more and more as if she was adrift in the ocean that Jos spoke so fondly of. She was neither land nor air, neither Grounder nor Sky People, and she knew that eventually, she would need to make a choice.

Jos’s words from their journey echoed in her head as she headed to his room to collect him. _Sometimes the middle is not so bad a place to be._

Clarke definitely didn’t believe him.

 

* * *

 

 

Jos tried to hide his grin as he looked up at his Commander sitting on her throne.

"Leave us." Lexa said,her eyes never leaving Jos's as Indra and the other guards that had been with her in her meeting room exited.  Once they were gone, Lexa let a small smile touch her lips.

"You should have written to tell me you were coming, cousin."  She said, before standing from her throne and coming forward to grasp his forearm in hers in a greeting.

"You would have told me not to come if I had." Was Jos's retort, and her smile widened before she pulled him forward into an informal hug.

"I think I might have missed you." She said, and Jos laughed in her ear.

"I missed you too,  _Heda_.  But I am afraid that you will no longer feel that you missed me after I tell you what I have come to say."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.  All of her things had already been shoved hastily into her saddlebags, but she couldn't seem to make her body move.  She sat there, still and lost in thought, until a series of soft knocks on her door made her jump.  In a flash, the anger was back, and she swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks to eliminate any trace of her emotions.  

"Go away, Jos!  I don't want to see you!"  She yelled in the direction of the door, letter her raw pain fuel the bite in her voice.  

Allowing herself to flop back onto the bed, Clarke once again swiped at the tears that were slowly but surely leaking out of her eyes.  How many times had people done this to her?  How many times had she been betrayed and let down by the people she had the most love and hope for?  Clarke and Jos had been walking amicably for almost twenty minutes this morning before he dropped a rather large and trust-shattering bomb on her.

Pressing her fingertips into the puffy skin underneath her eyes, Clarke let out a puff of frustrated air.  Why was nothing ever as it seemed?  She had thought that her rescue by Jos had been a happy - and livesaving - coincidence.  She had thought that her acceptance by the  _Floukru_ people, grudging as it was, had been a bit of luck.  She had thought that  _she_ had forgotten about her, and had left her to the woods and the death that they held.

Clarke had shared with Jos, let him see her weak and vulnerable, and if her heart wasn't already blackened and splintered from her life before she met him, it was now.  Jos had told her that he had not merely stumbled upon her out in the woods, delirious and dying.  Lexa had one of her scouts tail Clarke from the moment she and her people left the Mountain, and when she learned of Clarke's departure from the wreckage of the Ark, Lexa had sent a message to Jos.  Jos had been looking for her.  Not only had he been looking for her, but was Lexa's  _cousin_ , and Cheya was Lexa's mother's sister, and she was so fucking ANGRY.

What right did she have?  What right did  _he_ have?  Why was everyone always trying to watch her when all she wanted was to be left alone?  She had swung at Jos, her hand heavy with the weight of his betrayal, and he hadn't stepped out of the way.  She had pummeled him, right then and there in the middle of Polis with her fists, and all she could do was say the same thing, over and over.

_LiarLiarLiarLiarLiarLiarLiarLiarLiarLiarLiar_

He had taken the blows without a moment's hesitation, and it only made her angrier.  She had thought that she had gotten away from Lexa, out of her sight and out of her mind, but instead, Jos had been feeding information to the asshole warrior and they had probably been laughing at her for months.  When she was done, chest heaving, she had told him she was leaving, and she had marched off towards their lodging house.

A louder and much more frantic bout of knocking kicked Clarke out her reverie, and just like that, the anger was back.  She stomped to the door, lining up a few choice words for Jos on the tip of her tongue before flinging it open to find Lexa's eyes, free of war paint put entirely full of anger, boring straight into hers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh yeah. That's right. That's where I'm leaving it. 
> 
> I'm a bitch, you say?
> 
> Well it takes one to one. So there.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, look at that! I did it! First 100 fanfic uploaded! Go on then! Comment please. 
> 
> Love, love, love
> 
> Dia


End file.
